ARTIST & MUSE: ORIGINAL
by Cilla Cygnus
Summary: I have rewritten "the artist and her muse." here is the original for whoever wants to read it for posterity or whatever. HG/MM
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Be prepared for detailed anatomical descriptions of sexy stuff. If it's off-putting however, please say so and I'll stop nerding out with the anatomy

* * *

After the battle ended, Hermione often found herself sitting in an empty classroom. She would set up a variety of objects on a table and carefully represent them using a charcoal pencil on a great big pad of paper. Or she would find a piece of Hogwarts that just begged to splash itself across her sketchpad. She used deliberate strokes on toned paper to let her deepest soul converse with the objects in front of her. She could stepped outside herself and, for just a few moments, she was the room, the objects, the breeze... She was the air, the light, and the color. What is time to the immortal wood and stone? It is nothing. And so Hermione never noticed when the sun set behind its bank of clouds. She planned for these moments, of course. Hermione always chose her steps back to the makeshift dormitory carefully so she could return unseen. No one had spotted her.

It was a particularly hot evening in May. Hermione and her class were nearing graduation. Having completed the last of her assignments early, Hermione had taken her pad, drawing board, and a massive box of colored pencils to the nature lab. Amazingly, it was one of the few locations in the castle that was somewhat intact. Despite the climate control in the nature lab, Hermione found herself pulling her hair back, taking off her stockings, and rolling up her sleeves to stay cool. She worked intently on a representation of a vibrant, preserved toad. So intently, in fact, that she did not know that she was being watched.

* * *

Minerva strode about the castle. There was so much to do. So much had been ruined this war. She felt destroyed by this war. She had lost the only man to ever understand her. The only one who could ever see past her exaggerated identity as the stern professor. Albus was the man who gave her confidence, who could make her laugh, and the only man she would ever cry for. Their souls were connected in a union of _complicité*_ stronger than any marriage. She had lost a piece of her soul when Albus had died. Another part of it was destroyed with Hogwarts, her home of so many years. She found herself wandering to the Nature Lab to escape the unbearable afternoon heat and to find a moment of solace away from her paperwork and the few people still living at Hogwarts.

She turned the corner to the lab and found Hermione hunched over her drawing board, looking uncharacteristically sweaty and disheveled. Minerva found her core temperature rising, her abdomen strangely tight, and her innermost muscles tingled with arousal. God, the look of a beautiful woman passionately engaged in her work...that turned Minerva on. And not even the formidable headmistress could escape her own desires. She took a few steps to look over Hermione's shoulder. The young woman radiated heat, and the scent of her sweat mingled with her perfume to overpower the animagus' strong sense of smell. Minerva glanced at Hermione's drawing of the frog, and noted that the corners of the paper were full of nudes. _Where did she learn to draw like this?_ Beautifully rendered breasts and buttocks burst from the page, clouding Minerva's vision._ Perhaps this what Hermione prefers? Perhaps she is more artist than I realized... and more lesbian. _Minerva shook her head, as though it would chase those less-than-proper thoughts away.

"Hello, Miss Granger" Minerva said in a measured voice, startling Hermione, who flushed. Seeing Hermione's blush, Minerva wondered whether Hermione had learned legilimency during her wartime adventures.

"Hello, professor. I can leave for a moment if you need your privacy" Hermione, clearly intimidated by her regal professor, started rise from her seat, but Professor McGonagall gave her a glance that arrested her.

"No, please keep me company." Minerva said simply. "Do you mind if I remove my outer robes? It is awfully hot." Tiny beads of sweat were had formed on her hairline and at the nape of her neck. Hermione had never seen Minerva sweat. It was entrancing in its own way. Minerva no longer looked like a marble statue of justice and knowledge. She looked like a human of blood and flesh.

Hermione could only nod. Minerva efficiently removed her heavy layer of outer robes, revealing her graceful neck and the gentle swell of her breasts. She wore a simple button down shirt and a thin black ribbon necktie. Hermione found herself not-so-subtly ogling her professor who, due to the retarded aging process of most witches and wizards, looked only about thirty-five, even though she was many years Hermione's senior. Temporarily forgetting Hermione's presence, Minerva McGonagall heaved a great sigh and buried her head in her slender though chapped hands.

Moved by Professor McGonagall's unprecedented display of emotion, Hermione tentatively moved to the seat next to her. She was overwhelmed by the mingling scent of sweat and spicy eau de parfum. Hermione took her professor's delicate hand in her own shaking one and gently squeezed it, rhythmically rubbing Minerva's knuckles with her thumb. Minerva tried to pull her hand away, but Hermione held it fast. "Dear, professor," she uttered in a quivering murmur. "Has anyone given you the chance to grieve?" Minerva squeezed her eyes closed and turned away. She brought a delicate hand to her mouth to repress the tears that were threatening to gush forth. "Please, Professor," Hermione paused for a moment, looking at the small woman who was barely holding it together, "Minerva." Hermione was at a loss for words. "I..."she broke off, suddenly at a loss for words, tears threatening to flow from her own eyes. She sniffed for a moment. "I, I can't bear to see you like this," her voice quaked with emotion.

"Then don't see me like this, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall replied sharply, twisting her hand from Hermione's grip. She stood and threw her outer robes back on.

Before Minerva exited, she turned to her pupil. "I didn't know you were an artist." She said softly before turning on her heel to leave.

Hermione's paper was slowly filled with images of Minerva's slender hands and watery eyes. Hermione had many pages dedicated to Minerva, but none so beautiful as this one. The others showed small moments of Minerva the teacher and the mentor. This small collection of sketches showed Minerva the woman, who was not made of stone.

* * *

Minerva barely made it back to her quarters before everything she had repressed gushed forward. She saw the innocent package of lemon drops that had been sitting crookedly on his-now her desk. Thoughts of Albus embraced her, and she launched the little bundle of sweeties at the doorframe. A sunbeam of sickly sweet pieces rained downup on her, enveloping her quivering frame in their scent. Her hair and robes were coated with little sugary pieces. Sobs became silent bouts of trembling, which went on for some hours. It was Hazel, Minerva's house elf, who eventually found her, cleaned the room, and put Minerva to bed.

* * *

It was a while before they spoke again. A week before graduation, Hermione came to Professor McGonagall's office for advising. They briefly discussed career options, although it was clear from the beginning that Hermione would be going on to greater things at a graduate institution.

"What about art?" Minerva asked abruptly.

"What about it?" Hermione countered.

"Don't play dumb, Miss Granger. I saw those drawings. You're talented. You smile when you draw, you know that?" Hermione blushed. She didn't know that her professor had been watching her that intently. She shuddered when Minerva leaned in closer, "So," Minerva asked again, "what about art?"

"I, I don't know." Hermione sighed, her eyes floated to Minerva's lips. "I just thought I could do it on the side or something." She moved her eyes to a clock on the wall to keep her eyes from traveling to the opening in Minerva's inner robes.

Minerva sensed Hermione's discomfort and nodded curtly. She, somewhat clumsily, shuffled through one of her many drawers of papers. _What had she done to make Hermione act so strangely all of a sudden. _Minerva handed her student a small pamphlet. "There's a wonderful workshop run by Beauxbatons that covers traditional and magical techniques in art. Please consider attending." Minerva gave Hermione a small smile but inwardly grimaced. It was no secret that she strongly disliked Madame Maxime and the girls of Beauxbatons.

Hermione glanced at the pamphlet in her hands, surprised that Minerva would suggest something curated by Beauxbatons of all places. "I will, Professor." She gave Minerva a brief nod before she turned to leave.

* * *

Minerva sat in her empty office with a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. All of the advising was finished and tomorrow, her cubs would be leaving Hogwarts for good.

_"Tabby"_ She could have sworn she heard Albus' voice. God, she was wasted. _"Tabby"_ There it was again. Dammit. She took a swig of the spicy spirit to deafen his voice.

_Good grief Minerva, you are blind. _Minerva looked around her, and saw the Albus was occupying a portrait. To see his face again was nearly too much. Her lower lip quivered, "_Oh Tabby, please don't cry. _She looked into his blue eyes, and found herself enveloped in their easy, familiar calmness. Who could be sad in the twinkling embrace of Albus' eyes?

She found herself thinking about another beautiful pair of eyes. She was startled out of her distracted thoughts when Albus cleared his throat and looked at her intently. _As I said, you really are blind. _Minerva quirked an eyebrow. Albus rolled his eyes playfully. _You really can't see what's in front of you._ _You never were able to. _

Minerva stood in front of his portrait, gripping the bottle of firewhiskey with white knuckles._ You can put that down Minerva. Let's talk about you. _Minerva flushed, this time in embarrassment. Various times when he was alive, Albus would "talk about her" and invariably set her up on a positively horrible first date. She found herself chuckling as she remembered a few of the more, frankly, offbeat, experiences. _Tabby, Hermione graduates tomorrow. _ _Keep her with you a little longer._He paused for a moment and gazed at Minerva intently. _I want her to paint you. __This is my last wish to you and to Hermione. Do not rush anything. This painting will take shape at its own pace. Be patient and respect the process. Let it take weeks, months, or even years. _Minerva's eyes filled with confusion and something like...fear? Albus closed his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. This would not be easy for either woman.

He looked at Minerva and nodded at her with twinkling eyes, _Goodbye for now, Tabby_

Minerva finished another bottle of firewhiskey that evening.

* * *

Hermione looked beautiful in her cap and graduation robes. Her hair had been tamed into a gentle waterfall of waves. She stood proudly in the Great Hall, despite its ruin. Of course, not many students had come back for graduation, and it was a somber affair. The damage to the castle and its inhabitants was apparent. _No one deserves to graduate like this. Especially Hermione. She deserves better _Minerva found herself thinking. Her favorite student, no, former student deserved many things that no one could give her.

Minerva handed Hermione her diploma with a bittersweet look in her eyes. As tradition dictated, she hugged her student and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. As she watched Hermione return to the little makeshift stage they had made for the graduates, she realized that Hermione smelled like jasmine and paint thinner.

At the reception, the newly graduated students could mingle with their parents, friends, and professors. From across the room, Minerva watched intently as Hermione emerged in a black dress that left very little to the imagination. The dress had a high neckline, but it boasted a short skirt and two cutouts that revealed the sides of Hermione's creamy abdomen. Minerva, gazing hungrily at her former pupil, wore a long black, sequined dress with a transparent back and sleeves. Little did she know that all Hermione could think about was the light touch of the elder witch's soft lips on her cheek.

Ginny noticed that Hermione was stealing glances at Minerva, who was seated at the bar with Filius. They were engaged in an intense discussion. Minerva was leaning down to meet his eyes and was unconsciously offering Hermione, who knew how to look for those things, a full-frontal view of her sacral triangle**.

"She looks beautiful tonight doesn't she?" Ginny said flatly.

"God Gin! You weren't there a moment ago!" Ginny laughed and put her arm around Hermione's shoulders that were still shaking with surprise. "And yeah, she really does." Hermione took another brief glance in Minerva and Filius' direction. Hermione watched the witch's back muscles contract and extend seductively as she combed her fingers through her hair and threw her waves over her shoulder. _God that's..._No, she wasn't about to think _sexy_. Who was she kidding? If she could, Hermione would make Minerva take her on the ballroom floor in front of everyone. She would run her fingers through that ebony hair and unzip that dress to reveal everything from the tip Minerva's cervical spine to the graceful indentations where the muscles of her long legs joined the bones of the pelvis._ God don't get started on the pelvis Hermione._

"Have you had the chance to speak with her yet?" Hermione jumped out of her reverie and flushed. Ginny grinned at her like the cat who killed the canary.

"No,"Hermione groaned audibly. "But what would we even have to talk about?" Hermione had been avoiding Minerva since the incident at the Nature Lab. Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell the woman of stone how she felt about her, even though time was rapidly running out. It was clear to the young witch that if Minerva couldn't let her hold her hand, she wouldn't be apt to let Hermione do much else.

"How about _everything_? You are-were her favorite pupil. Of all the people here, she probably wants to talk to her newly graduated pride and joy." Ginny shook Hermione gently then sauntered over to the bar. A moment later, Ginny was leading Filius to the dance floor and met Hermione's gaze with a wink that obviously referred to Professor McGonagall, who was now sitting alone.

Hermione swallowed and tried to throw an extra twitch in her hips (Madmen style) as she crossed the ballroom to the bar. She stood confidently next to Minerva, using all her willpower to ignore the hypnotic spell of the woman's scent. "A firewhiskey please,"

"Miss Granger!" Minerva exclaimed with exaggerated disbelief. Hermione found herself turning to face her professor.

"I'm of age, professor" Hermione countered good-humoredly, seating herself on a nearby barstool.

"There is no need to call me professor any more. Please, call me Minerva."

"Alright, please, call me Hermione." Hermione said with an broad smile. A smile that Minerva had rarely seen, and one that burned itself into her memory.

The two shook hands and shared a laugh.

"So, how is it Hermione?" Minerva grinned like the cheshire cat as Hermione took a swig the firewhiskey. She looked confident for all of one second. Then she turned into a coughing, spluttering mess.

"What kind of question is that?" Hermione choked, laughing. She wasn't expecting the extent of the burn of firewhiskey.

"What kind of answer is that?" Minerva countered.

"I thought the show was pretty self-explanatory," Hermione joked. Minerva quirked a small smile.

"Well Hermione, I haven't seen you move or smile all evening." Minerva was right, and Hermione's face fell almost immediately.

"You're certainly not one to mince words are you, professor?" Hermione responded coldly.

"You've been standing in that corner across the room stealing glances over here." Minerva threw her long locks over her shoulder, assaulting Hermione with her scent of ginger and honey. "Are you avoiding me?" Minerva thought back to the afternoon at the Nature Lab. Had she frightened Hermione away?

"Maybe a little." Hermione colored for the hundredth time that everning and realized that Minerva had just confessed to watching her from across the room. Her charming professor had felt her absence. _Maybe there is hope for something after all_. Hermione recalled the feeling of Minerva's arms around her and her lips on her cheek. The way her hair was tumbling sensually over her breasts. "I, I just." Hermione's gaze narrowed in on the elegant sweep of Minerva's exposed collarbones. "I really need to talk to you." Hermione suddenly averted her eyes, unable to expose even the slightest facet of her attraction.

"But it was never the right time was it?" Minerva uttered flatly, looking into her glass. "Whenever you are ready." Minerva put her hands on Hermione's shoulders and gazed into her eyes, clearly searching for something other than fear in Hermione's eyes. After a brief moment, Minerva turned and went to talk to Mrs. Weasley as though nothing had transpired.

Hermione's head hung below her shoulders and she turned to the bartender: "Another firewhiskey please."

* * *

Later that evening, after the festivities ended and the afterparties began, Hermione made her way to the Headmistress' office. She was finally wasted enough to actually go through with it. Professor McGonagall was slowly working through a stack of hair was pulled back into an uncharacteristically messy bun and she was still wearing her party dress. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and her elegant heels were thrown haphazardly to the side of the room.

"Gawwwd Minerrvaahhh, do you ever take a brrrreak?" Hermione slurred.

"Hello Hermione" Minerva said sternly, glancing up from her work. Her charge was clearly wasted and she was in no shape to deal with another sloppy drunkard. She had already ferried an inebriated Rolanda to safety. Although it was questionable as to whether that was for Rolanda's safety or that of a decently attractive female student.

"Please, have a seat."

Hermione flopped unceremoniously into the chair in front of Minerva's desk. She leaned over the desk and opened her mouth to speak, but something stopped her. She gaped for a few moments, shook her head, then gripped the armrests of the chair in an unsteady attempt to stand and leave. Minerva chuckled despite herself at Hermione's display of drunken clumsiness. "Now you had something to tell me, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip. Despite her drunken stupor, she still couldn't loosen up enough to tell Minerva how she felt. But this would be her last chance. A flood of emotions overwhelmed Hermione, contorting her face into a strange expression between sadness and fear.

Minerva couldn't take it anymore, she didn't want to deal with any more tears. "Listen, I have a request for you." Visions of silken sheets, sweat, and skin on skin..."I want you to paint me, Hermione." Hermione's watery eyes eyes bulged in surprise. "I will pay you, of course

"I, I have to go professor." Hermione said, suddenly recalling the moment Minerva had sharply withdrawn her hand; the moment she left her alone at the bar. She stood with as much dignity as she could muster. She was dizzy and nearly fell, but unsteadily made her way out the door before Minerva could react.

"So much for a goodbye." Minerva said to the closed wooden door before breaking down in tears for the second time that week.

* * *

* "Au contraire de l'amour, qui peut naître instantanément, la complicité met longtemps à mûrir."**Jean Amadou** Unlike love, which can happen at first sight, complicity takes a long time develop. "la complicité" is meant in this particular case to be very, very strong friendship that develops over time.

** sacral triangle = those dimples on a woman's back just above her bootay (do she got the booty? SHE DOOOOOOOO...sorry)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: hey. here's the first M chapter ;) you're welcome, Cilla.

Just to be clear, this is not really a compliant fic to much of anything. Enjoy, regardless

* * *

Neither woman could sleep that evening. Hermione cursed her inability to be vulnerable. Her heart had been hardened by war, and she constantly struggled to lower her towering stone walls around those she loved. She needed to right things with Minerva because it was unlikely she would get another opportunity.

Her head spun. _Minerva,_ who was so cold to her, yet clearly watched her every move, had asked Hermione to paint her. Did Minerva know what that meant? _Minerva_, her muse since fourth year. Minerva was the one who illuminated Hermione's dreams every night and soaked Hermione's panties, disarmed her with her very scent, and the only one to ever catch Hermione off guard.

Merlin, who was Hermione to deny her feelings? _Fucking Minerva Fucking McGonagall. She can go on being that frigid old clam for all I care. I'm going to tell her how I feel if it's the last thing I do. If she rejects me, at least I will never have to see her ever again._ Hermione shivered at the thought, but her long overdue Gryffindor bravery finally kicked in and she set out for Minerva's quarters.

Minerva McGonagall sat up in bed after staring at the ceiling in the darkness for an eternity. Why did she have to go and fuck everything up? She, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Gryffindor Head of House, was too afraid to face her own feelings. Why was it that all she could do as of late was weep? She _wanted_ Hermione. She could have anyone, she knew that, but it was only Hermione she wanted pressed against her in the heat of sex. She wanted Hermione to do more than paint her portrait. She wanted to feel the smooth skin that peeked through the cutouts of Hermione's dress. God she wanted to feel Hermione's tongue writhe around her own, her breasts harden under her touch, and the gush of wetness that would flow from her inner folds when Minerva pleasured her. Beads of sweat began to form between Minerva's breasts, but this time it wasn't because of the heat. She let her hand creep between her creamy thighs and imagined that it was Hermione's touch, not her own, that pleasured her. She moaned and inserted one finger into the seeping depths of her sheath, then added another. Minerva gently thrust her fingers against her inner walls and moaned Hermione's name with desire She was on the edge of orgasm when the door to her private chambers swung open.

Rays of light poured in from her office to illuminate Hermione's countenance, which was lit with surprise and, to Minerva's relief, not a trace of disgust. In the poor light, Minerva's keen eyes could detect traces of desire reflected in Hermione's gaze. Hermione quickly averted her eyes, allowing Minerva a moment to collect herself. The formidable professor hastily covered her tall, slender frame in a dressing gown. _There's no undoing what she saw. Maybe this was meant to be_, she mused. "I'm decent, Hermione." Minerva murmured in her warm Scottish burr. "You can stop covering your eyes like a wee first year."

She led Hermione into her office and poured her a tumbler of firewhiskey. "I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Granger." Minerva exhaled slowly, trying to expel the blush from her cheeks. "Hermione." she corrected herself in a voice that was suddenly husky. Hermione only reddened further. The poor girl was nearly purple with embarrassment.

"This is all my fault, Minerva," Hermione said without looking up from her glass.

Minerva outstretched an elegant hand to gently lift Hermione's chin, letting her viridian mingle with Hermione's earthy brown. "What's done is done, dearie," she said with something in her voice that Hermione couldn't quite identify.

Hermione took Minerva's hand in her own. This time, Minerva wasn't going to pull away. "What I meant to say was," she slowly raised Minerva's hand to her lips, "Minerva McGonagall, I would be honored to paint you." she kissed the creamy hand that turned limp with want. Minerva expelled an involuntary gasp of pleasure that deeply aroused the other witch. _I want to make you my muse. I want to make you my lover. I want to make you my wife. _Hermione let go of Minerva's hand, letting it rest on the desk between them as a sort of bridge.

A veritable feast of emotions crossed Minerva's face. As though unaware of Hermione's presence, she tenderly withdrew the hand Hermione had kissed and pressed it to her cheek. After a moment, Minerva looked into Hermione's eyes and nodded her head. She began to rise from her seat, but Hermione halted her with wandless magic. "Minerva McGonagall, what is it that you are hiding that forces you to leave me at every turn?" Hermione demanded. "You left me in the Nature Lab and at the bar. Don't bloody leave me now."

"What are you talking about? It was you who left me! I practically told you I wanted to fuck and you just stood up and left me hanging!"Minerva was practically spitting in rage. Suddenly cognizant of her admission, Minerva paled and looked at Hermione expectantly.

On one hand, Hermione was infuriated with Minerva. On the other hand, she was aroused as hell. Merlin, Minerva was just so...tantalizing when she was angry. Hermione leaned over the desk until her face nearly touched Minerva's. "Did I?" she breathed, leaving only centimeters between their lips. Minerva smirked and slowly ran her tongue over her upper lip,

"Aye you did, my dearie" her accent resonated against Hermione's eardrums like warm amber. Minerva was the one who closed the gap between their quivering mouths, but the kiss was brief. Their lips had barely touched before Minerva pulled away. "I can't do this. She buried her head in her hands. "I am your teacher!" Minerva exclaimed, as though it was a sudden realization, her Scottish brogue become more pronounced. "I cannot bed another student." she lamented.

Hermione's eyebrows knitted together in a fury of many emotions. She could feel her heart slowly breaking as she took in Minerva's confession. _There had been another. Hermione was not the only student who Minerva had eyes for. _Hermione inhaled and could smell Minerva's perfume, it's entrancing scent choked her with sadness Tears flooded Hermione's eyes and ran down her cheeks one by one. "Fuck you, Minerva McGonagall." Hermione began to sob loudly. "You little tart." She pointed at the Scottish witch with a shaking index finger. "You WHORE!" Hermione roared with all of her strength. She stood in front of Minerva, scowling down at the woman who probably just wanted to get laid that night. The woman who was moaning her name into the sheets as she pleasured herself. Hermione shuddered in desire and anger.

Minerva was shaken. Her worst fears had been confirmed, then came hurtling back at her in Hermione's voice. Minerva sat there numbly, looking at Hermione, her student. Not only a student though. Hermione was a powerful witch who had weathered the many storms of war, and a beautiful woman on the verge of breaking Minerva's heart. "Just paint me." Minerva pleaded. "It was the final request of a good friend."

In her anger, Hermione found herself nodding, bending to the requests of the tartan-clad witch in front of her. "Fine." Hermione hissed, turning to leave, the tears returning when she knew Minerva could no longer see her. Things had gone horribly, horribly, wrong and there was no righting them anymore. Hermione's failure to confess her feelings to McGonagall registered, and this hurt more than any confession. She spent the rest of the night wailing into her pillow.

Minerva collapsed on her desk as the door closed. Through a veil of tears, she fumbled through a drawer in her bathroom till she found it: a half-empty vial of a sleeping potion. Minerva threw it back like a shot and fell into dreamless slumber.

* * *

Hermione woke up late. Though late to her meant 8am. She noticed a piece of fresh parchment by the bedstand:

_My dear Hermione,_

_Meet me at my chambers today after breakfast._

_We have some things to discuss_

_Minerva_

Hermione held the note to her nose and could identify hints of Minerva's scent intertwined with the distinct aromas of parchment and ink. She saw Minerva's eyes that glowed with desire reflected in her retinas. The souvenir of her former mentor's dripping pussy and searing kisses propelled Hermione to pack up her paints and go to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Minerva was absent from the Great Hall that morning. Hermione nursed a coffee and was noticeably quiet. "Is something troubling you, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded absently. "Will you tell me what it is?" Hermione shook her head and sipped the scalding brew. Harry narrowed his eyes and saw the bags underneath Hermione's lower eyelashes. "This has got something to do with Tabby, doesn't it?" Hermione's eyes narrowed. What was he calling Minerva Tabby for? Was he the other student Minerva had bedded? Was there something Harry knew that she didn't.

Part of Hermione knew she was being paranoid, but the other parts had been blinded by love and heartbreak. "I have to go," Hermione said abruptly and slammed her mug on the table, causing the bitter liquid to slosh onto the tablecloth. She hurried up the stairs that took her to Minerva's quarters. "Virginia Woolf," Hermione snapped at the gargoyle that guarded the headmistress' rooms. Hermione thundered up the stone stairs, letting her box of paints thump against her leg. She knocked on Minerva's door,

"It's open," she could hear Minerva's voice say from beyond the threshold. Hermione opened the door and wordlessly took a seat across from Minerva, who took out a pair of tumblers and a bottle of whiskey.

"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking, professor?" Hermione sniffed.

"We're in Scotland, Miss Granger. It's never too early for a glass of whiskey." Minerva put the bottle away and chuckled to herself."In fact, I'm quite sure that my father regularly mixed it into his morning coffee." "I'm afraid I owe you an explanation, Miss Granger, and an apology." Minerva paused for a moment as a faraway look made its way onto her features. "The last time I bedded another student," her breath caught in the back of her throat...

_It was the last week of the term, and Minerva was sitting in her classroom, finishing her grading. It was only her second year at Hogwarts, and she could nearly be a student herself. Despite spending ten years working for the ministry, Minerva was one of the younger members of the staff._

_"Excuse me, Professor." Minerva started, nearly knocking over her stack of grading. She looked up from her work to see Amelia Bones, one of the most promising students in her year. _

_"Good evening, Miss Bones. You are nearly graduated, there is no longer any need for such formalities"_

_"I have something that I need to tell you." _

_"And what would that be, Miss Bones?"_

_"Amelia."_

_"Yes, go on."_

_"I..." "I believe I'm gay"_

_"That's all?" _It wasn't.

_"No, no it's not." Minerva could feel Amelia's breath on the nape of her neck. "I believe you are also hiding something, Minerva McGonagall."_

_"Oh, it's no secret that I bat for your team, Amelia." Minerva's smug smile was all the permission Amelia needed. She knelt and took Minerva's elegant hand in her own sturdy one and her thin mouth slowly made a path from Minerva's dainty fingertips to her swanlike neck. Minerva gasped with desire as Amelia gently bit down, marking the animagus. _

_"You are so beautiful." Amelia had murmured against her neck before pressing her lips to Minerva's. Minerva's hands caressed Amelia's robust jaw line and thrust her tongue into Amelia's mouth. _

_There would be no speaking tonight. _

_They would fuck and Amelia could move on with her life. _

_"My rooms, Amelia," Minerva rasped. She took Amelia's warm hand in hers and led her through a secret passage that connected the classroom to her chambers. Once in safe seclusion, Minerva was the one to initiate the kisses. She moved her hands to Amelia's ample breasts for a moment before fumbling with the fastening of Amelia's robes. Amelia laughed and began to slowly undress. Minerva watched Amelia slowly remove her shirt, revealing a lacy black bra. She shook her hips suggestively at Minerva, gesturing for her to unzip her skirt. Minerva's hands tingled as she felt the firmness of Amelia's toned backside. _

_Amelia had Minerva pinned to the wall and was slowly disrobing her, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. Amelia deftly removed the elegant witch's bra and fixed her mouth upon an expressive breast, alternately kneading and biting the small slipped a bare thigh between Amelia's legs, feeling the wetness that had pooled there. She rhythmically thrust her leg against Amelia, whose motions became frenzied with desire.  
_

_They stumbled and fell onto the bed. Minerva let out a feral growl and thrust her hips against Amelia's, ripping Amelia's bra off her body. She buried her face in Amelia's bountiful bosom then slowly moved down. Her mouth teased Amelia's abdomen, her hipbones, and the first of small curls of pubic hair. She slowly removed Amelia's soaked panties and lowered her head to Amelia's dripping core, tasting her wetness. _

_She made Amelia come over and over again that night. But when morning came, Amelia left Minerva's bed for a small flat and a new position at the ministry of magic._

"It was clear that Amelia had only pursued me because of the tragedies dealt to her during the First Wizarding War. She was simply looking for love, and I was the one she chose to give it to her." Minerva poured herself more firewhiskey. "I regret it so much. I was so young and," she chuckled, "massively horny." Hermione laughed despite herself. "Really, it was a mistake. I wasn't even all that sorry she left."

"So I'm not just another body to warm your bed?" Hermione tested, still refusing to meet Minerva's eyes

"No!" "Miss Granger, I would never..." Hermione's eyebrows alluded to Minerva's story. "Aye, Touche." she grumbled. "But never you." Minerva's voice trembled slightly, betraying the emotional tempest that she often hid, "Merlin, why did you come? Why haven't you run off with Ronald or something?"

"Because I only have eyes for you, Minerva McGonagall." Hermione swallowed. She was awful at this feelings stuff.

"Hermione, I am old," Minerva let out a shaky breath and Hermione met her eyes.

"You're beautiful." The pair moved closer and the promise of a kiss dangled between them.

"I see you brought your paints." Minerva observed, suddenly ending the brief moment of tenderness between them.

"How about we get started."Hermione stood and moved to get her paints and canvas. This was going to take longer than she thought. _The painting, or Minerva?_


End file.
